


the missiles and the bombs sound like symphonies gone wrong

by sapphfics



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, mentions of gendarya, minor Jonerys, this started out as crack i swear
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-22
Updated: 2019-06-03
Packaged: 2020-03-09 12:34:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18917089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphfics/pseuds/sapphfics
Summary: “We don’t have time for this!” There’s a boy in a wheelchair staring into her soul who must be Bran. He unnerves her instantly. “Winter is coming, remember?”“Winter?” Daenerys asks, uselessly. She feels like her head might explode. “It’s barely just turned Summer.”“No, Summer’s dead.” Bran says, like she’s stupid for not knowing already. She has no idea what he’s talking about, and frankly she’s too afraid to ask. “The Night King approaches.”“Jon,” She’s staring at him now, hoping this is all some horrible dream. “What the actual fuck is going on?”Or: A summer at Jon’s house seems like a great idea, until his girlfriend Daenerys actually meets his family. Also, a love story.





	1. northern independence

**Author's Note:**

> this is just some funny jokes i saw on twitter i turned into a fic no one asked for. there’s minor jonerys in this chapter because i’m afraid you’re gonna have to wait for the gay shit, sorry...also the chapter titles are probably gonna sound weird but they’ll make sense eventually!! <3

Daenerys has been at King’s Landing college for less than three weeks before Jon Snow stumbles into her political science lecture already looking like he wants to die.

She moves her bag off of the seat right beside her, and he takes it even though there are plenty of other seats. Maybe she’s not as ugly as Viserys always insisted. 

“Hi! I’m Daenerys Targaryen.” She says, and grins up at him. Missandei has told her she seems intimidating to people who don’t know her, and the last thing she wants to do is intimidate this guy. He looks so lost. She offers out her hand. 

“Oh! I’m uh- Jon,” He shakes it sparingly, like he’s worried about something. “Jon Snow. So, did I miss much?” 

“Not really,” Daenerys admits. She hasn’t even bothered to learn her professor’s name. “I can lend you my notes, if you want. You don’t come here often, then?” 

“Not until recently. It was an uphill battle with my family to even let me come here at all,” Jon says, and he’s clearly not thinking about his words because his eyes widen. “Shouldn't have said that, fuck.” 

“I’m good at keeping secrets,” Daenerys promises. “Besides, I know what it’s like having a tough family. Between you and me, my older brother was a dick.” 

“Half my family’s dead,” Jon admits. “The other half...” 

“You don’t have to tell me,” Daenerys says, and puts her hand over his, comfortingly. “Not if you don’t want to, okay? It sounds like you might need a therapist, though, no offence.” 

“None taken. So, is this the part where I ask for your number?” Jon asks, as though he’s never spoken to a real girl before. 

As Daenerys soon finds out, he’s learned how to text from guide books from 2002. The next morning, he takes her out for a Starbucks, where she swears he orders a pumpkin spice latte but insists it’s black coffee. 

It’s kind of endearing. 

-:-

Daenerys hasn’t ever known anyone like him. Her last boyfriends were always assholes who made it hard to leave mostly out of fear for what they might do to her if she did. Jon is different, though; he is kind. He couldn’t hurt her if she tried. 

She can’t understand why Missandei is still wary of him. It’s been three months now since they started dating, and by her accounts, things are going well.  
Jon’s even taken her to his apartment a few times. 

His lack of any kind of official documentation should probably worry her more than it does, but he had excused it by telling her all his papers got destroyed in a flood. Besides, he doesn’t seem the type to steal someone’s identity. 

There aren’t any pictures of him as a child. There are no pictures of his family. His family never comes to visit. It becomes clear to Daenerys that Jon Snow likes discussing them as much as she likes discussing her own. 

The most she ever gets out of him is that he has two living sisters, one living brother, and that his step mother wasn’t overly fond of him. She doesn’t press him for more. He never asks her about Viserys, either. 

This is why it’s such a surprise when he offers to take her home to meet them during the hottest summer she has ever known. 

“Oh, of course I’ll go!” She says, and grins at him. “I’m sure the North is as beautiful as you said.” 

“I’d never lie to you, Dany,” Jon tells her, and she can tell he’s apprehensive. Only very important people to her get to call her Dany. It’s a privilege he has earned. “My family...don’t care much for people who aren’t us.” 

“It’s not as if we’re getting married.” Daenerys jokes, and Jon looks briefly crestfallen before he regains his composure. “I’m sure they’ll love me, eventually. Just like you do.” 

As they pull up in front of the large house Jon grew up in, Daenerys can’t shake the feeling that someone is watching them from a tree. Someone she can’t see. 

-:-

Jon’s sister, Sansa, is beautiful. She supposes it would worry her more if Jon had actually said his sister was hot. 

Still, it takes Daenerys aback slightly, even more so than her outfit. It’s a black long sleeved dress with a strange necklace that vaguely resembles the rings from a Sonic the Hedgehog game. It looks like she went shopping at Hot Topic and then a raven threw up on her. Somehow, she’s pulling it off. Daenerys thinks it’s her eyes. She could drown in them. 

“You must be Sansa!” Daenerys says, cheerfully. “The north is as beautiful as your brother claimed, and so are you.” 

Sansa doesn’t smile at her, but looks her up and down like she’s a piece of meat. “Winterfell is yours, your grace.” 

“Your grace?” Daenerys blinks, trying to piece together if the few seconds were actually real. “I’m...I’m not a queen, what are you talking about-“

“I’ll tell you later,” Jon whispers. “You just...need to get through the door right now.” 

“We don’t have time for this!” There’s a boy in a wheelchair staring into her soul who must be Bran. He unnerves her instantly. “Winter is coming, remember?” 

“Winter?” Daenerys asks, uselessly. She feels like her head might explode. “It’s barely just turned Summer.” 

Jon’s other sister, Arya, hasn’t said a word. She’s carrying a sword, though, an actual sword. Where did she get that? 

“No, Summer’s dead.” Bran says, like she’s stupid for not knowing already. She has no idea what he’s talking about, and frankly she’s too afraid to ask.”The Night King approaches.” 

“Who-“

Instinctively, Jon grabs her hand and pulls her out of the mess at the front door. He’s already made his way in. She can’t believe she didn’t notice until now. 

“Jon,” She’s staring at him now, hoping this is all some horrible dream. “What the actual fuck is going on?” 

-:-

“There’s no easy way to say this,” Jon sighs, like he’s been dreading this moment. “Basically, my family is obsessed with the apocalypse. They have a bunker and everything, which they’ll probably show you tomorrow.”

“Jon…” Daenerys has to sit down. She can’t process this. “How are you...sane?” 

“Maybe it’s because I’m a bastard? I don’t know,” Jon says, honestly. “They didn’t start doing this until they all got back home. Everyone came back different. This is why I don’t talk about them much.”

“No shit! Your sister already hates me,” Daenerys says. “And I haven’t even done anything yet.” 

“Sansa thinks she’s better than everyone,” Jon says, dismissively. “I’m so sorry, I never should have brought you here. We should go home, let’s go, right now.”

“No,” Daenerys stops him. “I’ll stay.”

Daenerys is going to make Sansa Stark like her if it’s the last thing she ever does.


	2. what do you know of fear?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daenerys awakens at noon to the sound of bells and a dozen people screaming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> an update so fast...what have i become?
> 
> also if you liked creepy!bran...prepare yourselves

Daenerys awakens at noon to the sound of bells and a dozen people screaming. Not church bells, something different, something worse. It almost sounds like surrender, but she would never be so lucky. Jon is already gone. 

There’s a note on her lampshade. _‘Good morning! Arya wants to meet you properly today, go in the office when you wake up? She was my favorite growing up, I’m sure you’ll love her. - Jon Xx’_

Daenerys sighs and claws her way out of bed. She stares in the mirror, trying to recognise herself. She’s uncertain what to wear, but all the heat she had once felt is gone now. She dresses in white furs, not showing any skin. She puts her hair in a simple braid, and almost wishes Missandei were here to style her hair for her. 

_If Missandei were here, I would feel safe._ She thinks. 

It hasn’t really occurred to her how sad it is she can’t even feel safe in her boyfriend’s family home. 

The hallway Daenerys must traverse to get to this mysterious office is lit by torches. It’s definitely a fire hazard, she knows, but she’s not afraid. She can’t be. 

She knocks on the office door like a child in trouble. 

“Come in,” The voice replies. It’s the first time Daenerys has ever heard Arya speak, and it’s clearly not her natural speaking voice. It’s too low. “Sit.” 

The office gives off the distinct impression that whoever once occupied it is long dead; with the out of date furniture left over from the Summer of Love, and books that are crumbling from within. She doesn’t want to touch anything, for fear of breaking it. Daenerys sits on a hard backed wooden chair that presses against her spine. 

Arya is holding an expensive looking dagger. 

“So, Arya,” She says with a smile. “Jon said you wanted to see me?” 

It’s only then that she notices a man’s severed head on the desk Arya stands behind. It’s being used as a paperweight; the eye sockets holding pencils. Daenerys wants to throw up. What the hell has Jon brought her into? 

“I do,” Arya tells her. She’s clearly relishing in how uncomfortable Daenerys is. “You should feel lucky you’re here, you know? The last...friend Sansa brought home died in a terrible fire. Took out her whole family.” 

_Fire cannot kill a dragon,_ Daenerys reminds herself. She will not let this girl frighten her. 

“But Sansa isn’t Jon,” Daenerys says. “I love Jon.” 

“He loves you,” Arya states, plainly. She sounds so disappointed. “And you’re not one of us.”

“No, I’m not,” Despite herself, Daenerys scoffs. She’s never been known for holding her tongue. “What, would you sooner have him marry his sister or something?” 

Arya laughs, cold and cruel. “We Starks aren’t meant for love.” 

“Everyone’s meant for love.” 

“Gods,” Arya rolls her eyes. She puts her feet up on the desk, but the knife never leaves her hand. “You sound just like Sansa did. We got rid of those silly songs, though and just in time.” 

“Who’s ‘we’, Arya? Are you threatening me?” Daenerys asks, incredulous. “I haven’t done anything wrong.” 

Before Arya can answer, Sansa bursts through the door. Daenerys could kiss her. 

“Tyrion’s giving a speech!” Sansa announces, with the fakest smile Daenerys has ever laid eyes on. “We must all go to the Sept at once.”

Daenerys is surprised she got included at all. 

-:-

The Sept, as it turns out, is a small church on the property in desperate need of repair. Tyrion Lannister talks too much and yet says nothing at all. He’s also clearly extremely drunk. She would laugh if the audience wasn’t so enraptured by his nonsense. She gets the delight of sitting next to a stoic Sansa, who looks about as happy as she feels. Jon is still nowhere to be seen. 

The dark haired boy who seems to be leashed to Arya looks so bored. She can relate. 

“Take my lovely lady wife,” Tyrion says, pointing to Sansa. “She was fifteen when we married. So brave. Grief had given her a haunted look, and if anything, it only made her look more beautiful.” 

_Sansa was only fifteen?!_ Daenerys recoils inwardly. She understands why Sansa doesn’t wear a wedding ring. She will report this to Greyworm, once she gets out. If she gets out alive. Greyworm knows people in the police force; he can help her. 

Why does she want to help Sansa so badly? 

It takes forever for Tyrion to stop talking; so long in fact, that Daenerys briefly considers removing his tongue with garden tools in his drunken stupor. When she and Sansa are alone, she wants to see if she can get Sansa to speak freely.  
The afternoon light is spilling through the only window. Here, Sansa looks even more radiant. 

“The Sept is beautiful today, don’t you think?” Sansa is still plastering on that fake smile. “My father built this Sept for my mother when they married.” 

“You probably saved my life earlier, you know,” Daenerys tells her. “Thank you.” 

“My sister can be...intense. Arya’s threatened to cut off my face before,” Sansa admits. “She hasn’t done it yet.” 

“She what?” Daenerys is disgusted. “Sansa, that’s fucked up.” 

“Family is everything.” Sansa just sighs, like she’s used to it. “Family, duty, honour. I brought an outsider into Winterfell, into The Pack. It was my own fault. Now she’s dead, and it’s because of me.” 

“Sansa,” Daenerys says, seriously. “It wasn’t your fault. I can’t believe they guilt tripped you for the crime of having friends.” 

“You don’t understand. Margaery wasn’t just my friend. I loved her, more than anyone. She was my great sin.” Sansa whispers, like she’s never had anyone to tell this to before. “I don’t pray anymore.” 

Without another word, she walks away. 

-:- 

Jon is waiting for her in their shared bedroom. He looks angry. The sun has gone in, covering the room in darkness save for the fire. 

Daenerys tenses instantly. Her hair has fallen out of it’s tight braid and hangs limp around her face. “What’s going on? What’s wrong?” 

“I’m so so sorry, Dany. We...need to break up.” Jon says. He won’t meet her eyes. 

“What the fuck?!” Daenerys wants to scream. “So you drag me out here to meet your fucked up family just to abandon me at the first chance you get?” 

“Bran told me that you are a test of my strength, just as Lady was for Sansa, and they killed Lady.” 

“Who’s Lady? And, a test of your faith? Jon, you can’t have fallen out of love with me in less than two days. You aren’t making any sense.” 

”Lady was Sansa’s dog.”

”So I’m worth as much as a dead dog now?”

Jon doesn’t seem to care. “Bran warned me that you’d be resistant. He said...if you can stay here for another week, follow our rules, then we can stay together.” 

Daenerys will try to save this relationship. She will not let a cult rip them apart. “Fine, then. I’ll do it.”

She will get through to Jon, and they will get out of here alive. 

When Daenerys escapes, she’s bringing Sansa with her. Even if she has to knock her out to do it.


	3. the blood of winterfell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On her third day here, Arya decides that it’s time to give Daenerys a proper tour of their grounds. Daenerys is hesitant at first, mostly because she assumes said tour will end in her being locked up in a tomb or something, but then she remembers this is for Jon. All of this is for Jon. 
> 
> Jon is ignoring her again. She tries not to care.

On her third day here, Arya decides that it’s time to give Daenerys a proper tour of their grounds. Daenerys is hesitant at first, mostly because she assumes said tour will end in her being locked up in a tomb or something, but then she remembers this is for Jon. All of this is for Jon. 

Jon is ignoring her again. She tries not to care. 

Arya uses her sword as a pointer. It’s definitely not as intimidating as she thinks it is, but Daenerys doesn’t comment. 

They start with the fields. Daenerys has never seen so much barren land in all her life, it’s mostly brown grass without even a cow to graze on. There isn’t much to look at, mostly due to the snow. It’s artificial snow — homemade, perhaps — because somehow they can still grow crops? Is it just so that their stupid house words actually means something? 

Daenerys is being cruel, she knows, because dragons aren’t real but it’s not as if they can read her mind. Or can they? 

As it turns out, there’s a whole town outside their manor. It’s called Wintertown, and it looks like they constructed it from stolen parts from the set of the lowest budgeted medieval period drama they could possibly find. 

She remembers this place. She and Jon had driven through here before they got to Winterfell, and she hoped she’d dreamt it. She often dreamt of terrible things. The inhabitants look equally as awful as their scratchy clothes, and Daenerys is glad the snow is fake for now.

“Why do they stay here, I wonder?” Daenerys asks, before she can stop herself. They are standing on a platform so they can survey everyone. It’s just beyond the edge of the town line, not daring to step over. “Winterfell has plenty of room for them.” 

Arya rolls her eyes, again. “We don’t allot that space, not yet. They are happy here. Now, they have a place to work for the rest of their lives without society trying to convince them that winter will never come. And we are your leaders now, too, Daenerys Targaryen. Don’t forget it.” 

“I haven’t.” Daenerys says through gritted teeth. After Viserys died, she promised she’d never bow to anyone again. She wants to hit something. “But I’m doing this for Jon.” 

“And for Sansa, right? Well, so am I.” Arya says. “Everything I’ve ever done was so I could get home to them. I think you’ll find I’m in the right, in the end.” 

Somehow, Daenerys doubts it. 

-:- 

They have to walk through the Godswood to get to the bunker. What unnerves her even more than most of the people and things in this place is the large tree. It takes up most of the garden, and it has a face carved into it. She feels as though it’s watching her every move, and she thinks that’s the point. She supposes she might feel more uncomfortable if it were some poor soul’s actual face that they had skinned and pinned to the bark, but not by much. 

Somehow, the bunker is worse than she imagined. The beds look like they’re one person’s weight away from breaking completely, and it smells faintly like sewage, and it’s too dark to see anything without the fire hazard torches. What have these people got against electricity? 

What intrigues her is the photograph. It’s the only thing in the place that looks well cared for. It’s framed with grey and hung in the middle of a wall, surrounded by candles like it’s a shrine. The photograph is of a normal looking family of six children, and two parents. When they smile for the camera, it doesn’t look forced at all. 

She recognises them. It’s Jon, and Sansa, and Arya, and Bran, and two other boys she doesn’t know the names of but they must be related; they look too similar. Their parents aren’t even looking at the camera, they are too busy looking at each other. They look happy. It makes Daenerys sort of want to cry for the people they could have been, should have been. 

“That photo was taken a few days after my nameday,” Arya says. She must have noticed Daenerys looking. “My father, Sansa and I left two days later. Only Sansa and I came back, and not even at the same time.” 

For a second, Arya almost looks remorseful, almost looks human reminiscing over time with her father.

“Whose head is on your desk?” Daenerys asks. 

“The man who got my father killed,” Arya grips her sword a little tighter. “I killed the whole family who killed my mother and brother, too.”

“You killed the Freys?” 

“Not all of them. I left one girl alive,” Arya nods, and smiles. “His child bride. I told her to tell everyone that winter came for House Frey.” 

Daenerys shivers. That was only a month ago. She remembers walking her dogs past that house, remembers seeing the blood seeping out from under the door, and calling for help. 

The police arrived soon after, and the crime scene was so awful that they ran out and vomited into the flower beds. The press had called it the Riverlands Road murders. Nobody ever got the little girl who survived to speak about anything, and she was sent away to another city to live in a care home. Greyworm spends far too much time on r/truecrime and he was fascinated by it, how you could kill a whole family and not get caught. It had looked like a mass suicide, until they found human remains in a pie, and the father’s throat slit open. The case had lingered with her long after.  
Well, now she knows who did it. If she gets out of here, she will have to tell Greyworm. 

_Is that your plan, then?_ Daenerys thinks. _To kill everyone who would stand in your way?_

A deeper, darker part of her thinks that she would do the same if she could. 

They leave the bunker after that. Daenerys shuts her eyes in the sun, lets herself breathe. She will not let herself be trapped underground, not by anyone. 

Sansa finds her again, and Daenerys doesn’t notice until she’s standing in front of her. “I heard Arya gave you a tour. There are other things I want to show you, without her.” 

Daenerys is too exhausted to even get her innuendo, so she drops her voice as quiet as she can. “Would you leave again, if you could?” 

Sansa doesn’t hesitate. “Maybe.” 

It’s better than a no.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it will get gay soon is2g hope you liked this anyway ily <3


	4. you can’t frighten me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Sansa and I...we’re becoming quite close.” 
> 
> “Funny,” Jon comments, though he isn’t smiling. “Margaery Tyrell said the same thing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to [holly](https://isabellelghtwoods.tumblr.com/) For reading over this chapter and letting my ramble about this fic to her and also everyone who’s read this far <333

A day later, Daenerys gives up hope on Jon ever loving her again. It’s strange that this happened so fast but, coincidentally, this is around the same time she sees the way he looks at Tormund Giantsbane. They sit through another agonisingly long speech by an increasingly intoxicated Tyrion Lannister and Daenerys tries not to run.

She’s surprised he can even still string sentences together. He must be a nightmare to be married to, you could never have a proper conversation with him. 

She and Jon stand in the empty Sept afterwards, seated at two opposing pews. 

“Jon...we can’t be together anymore, can we?” Daenerys isn’t even sure why she’s phrasing it as a question. “I’m not angry, I just need to know.” 

Jon just shakes his head. “I’m sorry, Dany. I’ve been talking to Bran a lot, catching up on what I’ve missed, and it’s really made me think that I can’t do this right now.”

“You realise that Bran hates me.” She reminds him again. She can’t even cry, all the grief went out of her long ago. “But okay, if that’s what you really want.” 

“It is,” Jon insists, though she can see his hands shaking slightly, and he’s looking up the wrong way. “We can be friends, though, and you’re stil staying here for the summer, right?” 

“Of course I am,” Daenerys replies, and not just because she has nowhere else to stay except Greyworm and Missandei’s pull out couch. “Sansa and I...we’re becoming quite close.” 

“Funny,” Jon comments, though he isn’t smiling. “Margaery Tyrell said the same thing, once.” 

-:-

“What did you want to show me, then?” Daenerys asks, almost excitedly. She’s pretty sure too much smiling must get you imprisoned, given how miserable everyone looks all the time. Maybe it’s just that they outlawed hats. It’s freezing. 

The good thing about hanging out with the higher ups in a cult is that there aren’t nearly as many people scrutinising your every move as there are elsewhere. Daenerys has learned this well. Sansa sent her bodyguards away and they obeyed without question. It seems that she wants them to be alone, too. 

She must be so lonely, Daenerys thinks. She’s like me, then? 

“Well, to be honest, now you’ve left Jon I really wanted to show you my —“ Sansa seems to bite her tongue. “The library! I wanted to show you the library!” 

Daenerys lets Sansa lead the way, and watches the torch light reflecting off of her hair. The library, as she expects, is completely deserted. 

The library has a stone base, and only one tiny window with bars on it. The shelves look like something bought from Ikea, painted mud brown, and then put back together wrong. She’s surprised they’re even staying up. The books, though, are meticulously organised. 

“Wow. I’m impressed. They let you read?” Daenerys jokes. Sansa laughs. She must not have very much excuse to laugh here. 

“Yeah, but I’m the only one still who comes in here. Sam used to, but then he became a father. When he left, I actually re-stocked the place.” Sansa explains. “It used to be full of the most boring biographies on Charles Manson you could possibly find, and I’m not even sure how they managed to make it boring. Now this place mostly has various translations of Sappho, and Virginia Wolfe. I hid them in the dust jackets of 1984, Rebecca, War of the Worlds, stuff like that. Classics.” 

“Who would’ve guessed a place like this would stock a book about alien invasion?” 

“Actually, they think the apocalypse will be environmental,” Sansa corrects. “But who knows?” 

The use of ‘they’ gives Daenerys another spark of hope that Sansa doesn’t actually believe this nonsense, but it’s hard to tell with Sansa. Someone clearly taught her never to display what she’s actually feeling, which makes talking to her interesting and yet hard for this purpose of figuring out just where her loyalties lie. 

The library seems endless. She could walk through here with Sansa forever, and she wouldn’t mind. 

Eventually, they reach what looks like a repurposed dining table from 1969. The chairs are so close together they might as well be a loveseat. 

“No one can hear us back here,” Sansa assures her and sits down, and pats the space beside her. “So, tell me, what’s really on your mind?” 

“How long have Jon and I been broken up? An hour?” Daenerys asks. “And everyone already knows?” 

“It’s been an hour and a half,” Sansa says. “I might have counted. And for the record, only I know and that’s because Jon told me.”

“Is that why I’m here? If you’re here to give me the riot act for breaking his heart, he’s the one who dumped me.” 

“Oh, I know that,” Sansa says. “If anyone’s getting the riot act, it’s my brother. He’s a fool for wasting someone as pretty as you. You’ll move on pretty quick though, right?” 

Daenerys is surprised. “You think I’m pretty?”

“Of course I do. Who wouldn’t? When we first met, you told me I was beautiful,” Sansa reminds her. “So far, you’re the only person I’ve ever believed who’s said that.” 

”You deserve to feel beautiful all the time,” Daenerys says. “And you’re right about needing to move on, but it’s not as if there’s much choice here.” 

“Most of us marry young. And wow, I can’t believe we’re turning you into a One Direction song,” Sansa says. “That’s sweet of you to say though, thank you.” 

“Child brides don’t count, and besides, I’m not lying,” Daenerys insists. “Has Tyrion ever...I know you’re married but you were a child and I hope he...” 

“No. Never,” Sansa’s bare hands rest on the table in front of her, her fists uncurled. “If he were a different man, I’d probably be on my fifth child by now. He’s too busy nowadays, can’t even be bothered to say hello to me in the mornings or speak to me at all. I don’t care. I don’t need him. It’s a loveless marriage, yeah, but I’m fine.” 

“You deserve better,” It’s the first time Daenerys has ever seen Sansa with her guard down. What must she look like when she’s completely letting loose? What did Margaery see of her? “You deserve to marry someone who loves you.” 

Why does she feel jealous of a dead girl? 

Daenerys places her hand over Sansa’s, and looks her right in her eyes. 

“I’m not lying, either,” Sansa says. “No one will ever marry me for love.”

“Don’t give up hope yet,” Daenerys says. “They tried to make you forget anyone outside this place ever loved you, but they did. You must know that.” 

“It was loving me that got them killed,” Sansa says. “I’m cursed.” 

“You aren’t cursed,” Daenerys says. “You just…need some help, that’s all. I’ll try and help you. Do you want to tell me about this Margaery Tyrell I’m hearing so much about? It doesn’t sound like you get much opportunity to talk about her, and you clearly miss her a lot.” 

Sansa smiles for the second time since Daenerys’s arrival. “Bran said never to speak of her again, less I anger the gods.” 

“Bullshit.” Daenerys says. “Any gods that would be angry at love aren’t worth worshipping. What would Margaery say to that?” 

“She would say ‘Forget the bloody gods and listen to me!’” Sansa chuckles. “She told me that when I was hating myself for being who I am, for loving her. Everyone loved her, except my family. And I know it was because she was a woman, because Arya’s had Gendry on a string for years and no one gave a shit.” 

“She sounds like quite the charmer.” 

“She was,” Sansa admits. “So are you.” 

-:-

It’s late evening by the time they leave the library. They spent all their time reading Sappho, because Daenerys doesn’t want to pressure her into talking about her past. 

But Sansa is holding her hand in public. Daenerys can hardly breathe. She keeps waiting for Arya to leap out of nowhere and murder her, or something equally as ridiculous. 

Sansa had really wanted to show Daenerys her bedroom. She decorated it specially for her arrival, by painting the door red. 

Sansa locks the door behind them, and shuts all the curtains. A single candle illuminates them both. “I spent all day thinking about something, though. Can I ask you a question?” 

Daenerys nods. 

“If you were going to move on right now, and it had to be someone here, who would you pick?” 

“You, obviously.” 

“So,” Sansa leans in close to her and whispers. “With our house sigils, you’re a dragon, and I’m a wolf. What do dragons even eat, anyway?” 

Daenerys answers playfully. “Anything they want.” 

“Well, in that case…” Sansa giggles and then kisses her.

Daenerys lets herself burn, and doesn’t care that the last girl Sansa kissed is currently a pile of ash.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> literally how am i updating so fast???...also you know that joke about how gays move on fast? i think i just proved it with daenerys lmfao also this chapter asks an important question: is it _really_ cheating if it was forced child marriage?? i mean technically yeah but w/e it’s gay so it’s fine 
> 
> you can hit me up on [tumblr](https://sansaisalesbian.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](https://mobile.twitter.com/canondaensa) if you feel like it <3


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